Monday, August 24, 2009

He that lives in a glass house must not throw stones.

I had a house.
And in that house there were things.
Things with memories encrypted onto them.
There were chairs we sat and laughed in.
Photographs, I adored you.
Books we never read.
Walls with words unsaid.
The front door always remained locked,
I never wanted to leave.
The shelves held all the lies you spilled
Around our wooden floors that always
Creaked when you came around
Sound proofed our bedroom so you did not hear
Me scream when I found her scent underneath
Your pillow.
The hearts on the window from the fogged mornings.
Mornings I could not sleep from the nights you
Pretended to love me.
Stained red lipstick smeared across buttoned shirts;
I always ignored.
Everytime you would return to me with a little less than you left with.
The warnings were deafening but I covered my ears
With your hands and begged you to make
The sirens stop, and you would kiss my cheek
And just as innocently I would sweep away
Her footprints in the doorway.
The wine bottles spilled everytime you left;
Drinking to the nights alone, in our bed.
This house became a knife and I always bled when you fled,
Cutting deeper, the nights longer, the mornings colder,
Wrapping myself in your bedsheets; wondering how it was you could hold her,
When you had me. Sadly, our happy home became a
Vacant hole and I walked the halls and of what was.
The chairs were broken, the pictures on the walls
Were crooked and the windows shattered.
This is what our love had become.
Broken.

I sold that house; to a woman who didn't mind the mess.
She said nothing could compare to the tangles in her chest.
When she stepped into the doorway, I could almost hear her sadness
Burst inside of her.
Her scent was familiar.
Her red lipstick blared.
She pushed my hand away when I went to give her the key.
Opened her purse and pulled out her own.
I smiled and left that house.

And I built myself a home.

10 comments:

Ava Dior said...

i absolutely loved this.

tianamonique--* said...

thank you very much =]

Elle said...

You amaze me with each and every word you ooze onto these pages of your life. Please take this pain and write a memoir. Draw a literary picture and I will buy a thousand copies.

Dear Lord, Thank you for blessing Tiana Monique with this pen. She has blessed me with her words.
Amen.

tianamonique--* said...

Elle you are too sweet! Thank you so much dear! =]

Reggie said...

This was amazing!!!!

Maryfelix said...

i've been reading your work for awhile now but never comment. i'd like to say that u r by far one of the most talented poets i know of. u make the reader feel the pain as if it was thier own. thank u for sharing.

Neesh B Fly said...

Love it Love your blog check mines out neeshbfly.blogspot.com and if you like it follow me or leave a comment..thanks

Mocha' said...

bravo!
your words move me to no end,and i find myself immaculately enthralled in your wonderful usage of words.
in simpler terms,this is amazing!
all your poetry is wonderful,and you really have a gift with connecting to your audience.
it's beautiful!

Shandra E...*the misses said...

Wow...i just read this for the second time; i read it when you first posted it, but today it resonated! The way you allowed your words to topple over and unfold amazes me!! i'm inspired and goodness what an "ending"!! I love when words end and somehow you know the "story" doesn't! let's you know you're reading a powerful, transcending piece!!

THIS: Wrapping myself in your bedsheets; wondering how it was you could hold her,
When you had me.

...GRABBED ME!

My response to the poem:he holds her because he "has you" convinced you should stay...and when a woman is convinced, she feels compelled to entrap herself...& in the end, she finds she is the only one holding on...

Still her hands are as empty as her heart

Christina said...

ahhhhmaaaazing! I'm in love with your writing!!